The public’s hatred of Socrates

Part of the fascination of Plato’sApology consists in the fact that it presents a man who takes extraordinary steps throughout his life to be of the greatest possible value to his community but whose efforts, far from earning him the gratitude and honour he thinks he deserves, lead to his condemnation and death at the hands of the very people he seeks to serve. Socrates is painfully aware that he is a hated figure and that this is what has led to the accusations against him. He has little money and no political savvy or influence, and he has paid little attention to his family and household—all in order to serve the public that now reviles him. What went wrong?

The impression created by Aristophanes

Socrates goes to some length to answer this question. Much of his defense consists not merely in refuting the charges but in offering a complex explanation of why such false accusations should have been brought against him in the first place. Part of the explanation, he believes, is that he has long been misunderstood by the general public. The public, he says, has focused its distrust of certain types of people upon him. He claims that the false impressions of his “first accusers” (as he calls them) derive from a play of Aristophanes (he is referring to Clouds) in which a character called Socrates is seen “swinging about, saying he was walking on air and talking a lot of nonsense about things of which I know nothing at all.” The Socrates of Aristophanes’ comedy is the head of a school that investigates every sort of empirical phenomenon, regards clouds and air as divine substances, denies the existence of any gods but these, studies language and the art of argument, and uses its knowledge of rhetorical devices to “make the worse into the stronger argument,” as the Socrates of the Apology puts it in his speech. Socrates’ corruption of the young is also a major theme of Clouds: it features a father (Strepsiades) who attends Socrates’ school with his son (Pheidippides) in order to learn how to avoid paying the debts he has incurred because of his son’s extravagance. In the end, Pheidippides learns all too well how to use argumentative skills to his advantage; indeed, he prides himself on his ability to prove that it is right for a son to beat his parents. In the end, Strepsiades denounces Socrates and burns down the building that houses his school.

This play, Socrates says, has created the general impression that he studies celestial and geographic phenomena and, like the Sophists who travel from city to city, takes a fee for teaching the young various skills. Not so, says Socrates. He thinks it would be a fine thing to possess the kinds of knowledge these Sophists claim to teach, but he has never discussed these matters with anyone—as his judges should be able to confirm for themselves, because, he says, many of them have heard his conversations.

But this can only be the beginning of Socrates’ explanation, for it leads to further questions. Why should Aristophanes have written in this way about Socrates? The latter must have been a well-known figure in 423, when Clouds was produced, for Aristophanes typically wrote about and mocked figures who already were familiar to his audience. Furthermore, if, as Socrates claims, many of his jurors had heard him in discussion and could therefore confirm for themselves that he did not study or teach others about clouds, air, and other such matters and did not take a fee as the Sophists did, then why did they not vote to acquit him of the charges by an overwhelming majority?

Socrates provides answers to these questions. Long before Aristophanes wrote about him, he had acquired a reputation among his fellow citizens because he spent his days attempting to fulfill his divine mission to cross-examine them and to puncture their confident belief that they possessed knowledge of the most important matters. Socrates tells the jurors that, as a result of his inquiries, he has learned a bitter lesson about his fellow citizens: not only do they fail to possess the knowledge they claim to have, but they resent having this fact pointed out to them, and they hate him for his insistence that his reflective way of life and his disavowal of knowledge make him superior to them. The only people who delight in his conversation are the young and wealthy, who have the leisure to spend their days with him. These people imitate him by carrying out their own cross-examinations of their elders. Socrates does admit, then, that he has, to some degree, set one generation against another—and in making this confession, he makes it apparent why some members of the jury may have been convinced, on the basis of their own acquaintance with him, that he has corrupted the city’s young.

One of the most subtle components of Socrates’ explanation for the hatred he has aroused is his point that people hide the shame they feel when they are unable to withstand his destructive arguments. His reputation as a corrupter of the young and as a Sophist and an atheist is sustained because it provides people with an ostensibly reasonable explanation of their hatred of him. No one will say, “I hate Socrates because I cannot answer his questions, and he makes me look foolish in front of the young.” Instead, people hide their shame and the real source of their anger by seizing on the general impression that he is the sort of philosopher who casts doubt on traditional religion and teaches people rhetorical tricks that can be used to make bad arguments look good. These ways of hiding the source of their hatred are all the more potent because they contain at least a grain of truth. Socrates, as both Plato and Xenophon confirm, is a man who loves to argue: in that respect he is like a Sophist. And his conception of piety, as revealed by his devotion to the Delphic oracle, is highly unorthodox: in that respect he is like those who deny the existence of the gods.

Socrates believes that this hatred, whose real source is so painful for people to acknowledge, played a crucial role in leading Meletus, Anytus, and Lycon to come forward in court against him; it also makes it so difficult for many members of the jury to acknowledge that he has the highest motives and has done his city a great service. Aristophanes’ mockery of Socrates and the legal indictment against him could not possibly have led to his trial or conviction were it not for something in a large number of his fellow Athenians that wanted to be rid of him. This is a theme to which Socrates returns several times. He compares himself, at one point, to a gadfly who has been assigned by the god to stir a large and sluggish horse. Note what this implies: the bite of the fly cannot be anything but painful, and it is only natural that the horse would like nothing better than to kill it. After the jury has voted in favour of the death penalty, Socrates tells them that their motive has been their desire to avoid giving a defense of their lives. Something in people resists self-examination: they do not want to answer deep questions about themselves, and they hate those who cajole them for not doing so or for doing so poorly. At bottom, Socrates thinks that all but a few people will strike out against those who try to stimulate serious moral reflection in them. That is why he thinks that his trial is not merely the result of unfortuitous events—a mere misunderstanding caused by the work of a popular playwright—but the outcome of psychological forces deep within human nature.

Socrates’ analysis of the hatred he has incurred is one part of a larger theme that he dwells on throughout his speech. Athens is a democracy, a city in which the many are the dominant power in politics, and it can therefore be expected to have all the vices of the many. Because most people hate to be tested in argument, they will always take action of some sort against those who provoke them with questions. But that is not the only accusation Socrates brings forward against his city and its politics. He tells his democratic audience that he was right to have withdrawn from political life, because a good person who fights for justice in a democracy will be killed. In his cross-examination of Meletus, he insists that only a few people can acquire the knowledge necessary for improving the young of any species, and that the many will inevitably do a poor job. He criticizes the Assembly for its illegal actions and the Athenian courts for the ease with which matters of justice are distorted by emotional pleading. Socrates implies that the very nature of democracy makes it a corrupt political system. Bitter experience has taught him that most people rest content with a superficial understanding of the most urgent human questions. When they are given great power, their shallowness inevitably leads to injustice.